


Freedom for All

by TCRegan



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28834365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/pseuds/TCRegan
Summary: In the aftermath of Kirkwall, Anders reflects on the future.
Relationships: Anders/Hawke (Dragon Age), Anders/Male Hawke
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	Freedom for All

They were alone together for the first time since leaving Kirkwall. Their last days in the city were a flurry of tying up loose ends, packing, and settling affairs. Hawke entrusted the key and papers of his estate to Varric, with a sizable donation to the city guard to assist in the cleanup.

Anders reflected on it all now. Orsino’s sacrifice, Meredith’s descent into red lyrium madness. He remained mostly silent as they traveled, painful and confusing emotions whirling inside him. Self-righteous anger mixed volatilely with self-loathing. The looks and comments their friends – no, _Hawke’s_ friends – only served to bolster both feelings. Aveline, though she fought with them to defend the mages, spoke of arresting him. Fenris talked with Hawk at length as to the dangers of magic – at how “the abomination” had become uncontrollable. Isabela threw out off color jokes, clearly uncomfortable with anything veering into serious conversation.

She was the first to leave their group after they departed the city. She didn’t say where she was going, and Hawke didn’t ask. Merrill left the day after, not wanting to venture too far from Kirkwall. She said she thought of it as home now and there was a lot of cleanup to do. A jagged spike of guilt twisted hotly in his gut as she wished them luck and hugged Hawke in farewell.

It was nearly a week before Fenris left. Nearly a week of being ignored, of listening to accusations of things that Anders told himself hundreds of times before. When Fenris left them, he didn’t bother saying goodbye to Anders, nor was Anders expecting him to. Hawke wished him well, told him to be careful. With Danarius dead, there was little threat now to Fenris, despite being on his own.

Hawke, the only one left now, kept the conversation light and the fire low. His decision was that they needed to keep moving. If the Divine was sending troops to Kirkwall it would be hopefully to assist the citizens and not create more strife. Once they finished searching the city for Anders, they would spread out across the Free Marches and look elsewhere. Drawing the army away from Kirkwall, away from other mages trying to flee the area, was the intent.

Anders watched the embers of the slowly dying fire glow soft and warm. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. He didn’t want to cry. It was not his place to grieve. Inside him, so close to his heart, he felt Justice pulling. The urge to get up, to move, to do something, was ever present. There was more to be done. The mages still weren’t free. The battle had only just begun. The war to come would be brutal, and many lives would be lost. Was it worth it? Did he do the right thing?

Yes.

The mages would be free.

“Anders.”

Anders shook his head, fingers curling into fists as he continued to press them against his eyes. The color behind his eyelids turned black, then red. Blood red. The blood that was on his hands. Firm, calloused fingers encircled his wrists and he fought against them, but Hawke was too strong. Or perhaps he, Anders, was too weak. Lack of proper food and sleep, circular reasoning and self-doubt kept him awake late into the night, often dulling to a distant ache as the sun rose.

“Anders.”

More insistent this time. And then Hawke was there, filling his senses as those strong arms engulfed him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Anders pressed his forehead against a well-muscled chest. He smelled of the forest, of the fire, and sweat, and something that unmistakably Hawke. Anders felt selfish all over again. Who was he to take comfort in this? When so many mages couldn’t and didn’t have this. His shoulders shook and he was crying, but Hawke was there. 

“You’re all right,” came Hawke’s deep rumbling voice.

Anders shook his head again. He was the furthest thing from all right. He felt that awful, heavy weight sink from his chest into his stomach, making him ill.

“Yes,” Hawke whispered against his ear. “I’m here. I won’t let you do this alone.”

The words only served to increase the ambivalence inside him. Hawke gave up everything. His wealth, his estate, his home. Even his friends. The conversation they had about being fugitives on the run together seemed so long ago, so far away, and the spark of hope it ignited was dulled now, just another memory of something he couldn’t have.

“Anders, look at me.”

Hawke pulled back and a rough hand cupped his chin, lifting it until their eyes met. Anders stared hard, trying to focus on the deep green color, the wrinkles at the corners. How many times had he lain awake next to him in Hawke’s bed, disbelieving that this was truly his life now? How many nights had he examined his lover’s face, knowing that he could lose him, knowing that he needed to sacrifice his own comfort for something larger than himself, something larger than his love for Hawke? Fearing that Hawke would kill him for what he had to do. Fearing that Hawke would stand by him for what he did do.

“I love you,” Hawke said. “I love you and I will be with you until we die.”

Anders drew in a ragged breath. “We could die tomorrow.”

“Or a hundred years from now. Anders, we could’ve died so many times. It’s not your-“

“It is,” he cut him off sharply. “You could’ve had a life without me.”

He was expecting Hawke to argue the point, as he’d done before. What he wasn’t expecting was the hurt expression that followed.

“No,” Hawke said. “No, I couldn’t have.” He gripped his wrists again, only this time there was desperation in his touch. “I told you. I told _them_. I love you and I will stand by you no matter what. I understand why you thought I wouldn’t help. Why you didn’t want me to. But you need to understand why I made my decision. Why I wouldn’t let Sebastian kill you.”

Before he could stop himself, Anders croaked out, “Why?”

“Because you’re right. Anders, you’re right. The whole system – Kirkwall, the Circle – needs to be torn up from its roots and burnt to a bloody crisp.”

If Hawke had said anything else Anders might not have believed him. The first time they met, Hawke espoused about mage rights. He shared stories of his father and his sister, of their life on the run. Anders didn’t think he would ever meet someone like Hawke. He wanted better for him. For all mages and for all families who stood by their kin who happened to be born with the sin of magic. He didn’t want Hawke to do this for him. He wanted Hawke to do this because it was right.

“We’re going to help them,” Hawke said. “Together.”

Anders slowly nodded and he felt the grip on his wrists relax. Hawke drew him close and kissed him soundly, arms wrapping around him once more. Anders clung to Hawke’s shoulders, drawing relief and strength from him, and the hollow feeling in his stomach disappeared. Justice quieted, the constant urge to move, to do more, died down, burning out slowly just like their fire.

Hawke doused the remains and pulled Anders into their tent, arms protectively embracing him as they settled down. For the first time in a long time, Anders slept peacefully.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so rusty. Thank you all for reading. :)


End file.
